The lady was already in the doorway. She must have followed Higgs from the hall, and now stood, hesitating, on the threshold. "What name?" breathed Gimblet; but Higgs only shook his head. The detective went forward and spoke to his visitor. "Please come in," he said. "Won't you sit down?" And he pushed a chair towards her. "Thank you," said the lady, taking the seat he offered. "I hope I do not disturb you; but I have come on business," she added, as the door closed behind Higgs. "Yes?" said Gimblet interrogatively. "You will forgive me, but I didn't catch your name when my man announced you." "He didn't say it," she replied. "I had not told him. I am sure you would not remember my name, and it is of no consequence at present." "As you wish," said the detective. But he wondered who this unknown woman could be. When she said he would not remember her name, did she mean to imply that he had once been acquainted with it? If so, she was right in thinking that he did not recognize her now; but, if she did not choose to raise the thick crape veil that hid her face, she could hardly expect him to do so. He wondered whether she kept her veil lowered with the intention of preventing his recognizing her, or whether in truth she were anxious not to expose grief-swollen features to an unsympathetic gaze. Her voice, which was low and sorrowful, though at the same time curiously resonant, seemed to suggest that she was in great trouble. She spoke, he fancied, with a trace of foreign accent. For the rest, all that he could tell for certain about her was that she was short and slender, with small feet, and hands, from which she was now engaged in deliberately withdrawing a pair of black suede gloves. He watched her in silence. He always preferred to let people tell their stories at their own pace and in their own way, unless they were of those who plainly needed to be helped out with questions. And about this woman there was no suspicion of embarrassment; her whole demeanour spoke of calmness and self-possession. "I believe," she said at last, "that you are a private detective. I come to ask for your help in a matter of some difficulty. Some papers of the utmost importance, not only to me but to others, are in the possession of a person who intends to profit by the information contained in them to do myself and my friends an irreparable injury. You can imagine how anxious we are to obtain them from him." "Do I understand that this person threatens you with blackmail?" asked Gimblet. The lady hesitated. "Something of the kind," she replied after a moment's pause. "And you have so far given in to his demands?" "Yes," admitted the visitor. "Up till now we have been obliged to submit." "Has he proposed any terms on which he will be willing to return you the papers?" asked the detective. "No," she replied. "I do not think any terms are possible."